


Scent of Heaven

by deanbennylife (kams_log)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Florist Dean, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Tattoo Artist Benny, Tattooed Dean, flower tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/deanbennylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There had to be something glaringly ironic about a florist covered in flower tattoos. But Dean didn't care. He loved flowers. Always had, ever since he was a kid tugging boxes around the back of his mother's shop and spraying water concoctions his mother had made for the flower displays. </p><p>He especially loved daffodils. Just like his mother did. It was like the perfect gift when she put a daffodil behind his ear one day. Ever since, he was always covered in flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scent of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> this is dedicated to meldarlin from tumblr! she drew the most amazing floral tattooed!dean ever. here's the link if you wanna see it:
> 
> http://meldarlin.tumblr.com/post/120200651368/floral-tattoo-dean-heere-ya-go-lovefromdean-hope
> 
> i hope you enjoy the fic!

Dean rubbed his neck where his two month old rose tattoo rested. It had become a nervous habit of his, touching his various flower tattoos whenever he got anxious or stressed. The rose was his most common when he was dealing with a difficult customer. He liked to imagine throwing a thousand thorny stems at the person’s face until they ran out screaming--but that’d be impolite. And Dean had a business to run. So instead he’d smile politely and keep the rubbing to a minimum as he discreetly grabbed Jo to help him with the latest bouquet from hell.

Other times he’d pick at the petal of the fuchsia on his arm. It was one of the few nervous habits he couldn’t catch himself from stopping. It calmed him, and whenever he looked down at it, he’d find himself idly thinking of his mother, and how she’d always had a thing for the purple petals, and if she couldn’t see those, she’d settle happily for daffodils.

Dean had many other tattoos. He loved sharing the names with some of the customers who stared at his arms and neck a little too closely to be passing interest. Some of his customers loved a florist tattooed in dozens of flowers.

There had to be something glaringly ironic about it. But Dean didn’t care. He loved flowers. He’d gotten the passion from his mother when he was a little boy, watching her make her garden and bring in bouquet after bouquet.

She owned her own shop too. It was a quaint little place, filled with the scent of heaven and daffodils.

Dean used to think the flowers were made of sunlight or gold, something like his mother’s hair.

Mary found it funny. She’d stick a stem behind his ears some days when he helped her out in the shop. He was maybe eight years old back then, tugging boxes around back and spraying the displays with water concoctions his mother had made.

It was around then that Mary gave him one of her famous daffodils, tucked it behind his ear before he went off to school. Dean had felt no shame in wearing it the entire day.

Some of the kids had laughed at him. Most of them boys. A lot of the girls liked it though. They said it made his green eyes brighter.

This only made Dean beam and strut proudly through the elementary school hallways. All his family said he looked like his mom, and he loved it. So when one of his friends complimented one of his shared features, he couldn’t help but feel a little stronger and brighter for it.

Until Al and Fergus followed him home, shouting horrible names in his ear until he made it back to the shop.

All three of them stopped when they spotted the flames and the firetrucks.

Al ran away that day. Fergus had followed him to the shop, stayed with him when his family all arrived and didn’t leave until it was confirmed that Mary had died in an accident in the shop.

All of her flowers had burned with her. All of them except for the daffodil still behind Dean’s ear.

It was that day he swore he was going to get those flowers back, even if he couldn’t get his mom back.

And he did. He went into business and got a degree early, before any of his friends where even halfway through college. He reopened his mother’s shop, _Scent of Heaven_. He never imagined it would draw in much attention, or customers. But within two months, he had over a dozen regular customers and even more buying passerbyes.

Dean loved his shop. He loved his work. He loved his employees, even his annoying high school interns, Jo and Charlie, who were more like adopted little sisters than anything else.

Fergus had ended up changing his name to Crowley in high school, and he’d ended up sticking with Dean as an off-and-on friend. They didn’t exactly get along. But there was a mutual understanding they seemed to have. Dean often caught the man stopping through the shop and picking up some flowers for his girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Or anyone, really.

The visits were frequent, and sometimes, if Crowley stayed long enough to ask for advice, Dean would find himself blushing for hours afterward.

“I’m not your damn psychiatrist!” Dean found himself shouting one day as Crowley closed the door behind him. But Dean caught the man’s awful smirk through the glass windows as he walked away.

“God, you two are like phone sex, but without the phones,” Charlie said after one of Crowley’s infamous visits.

Dean blushed furiously and turned back to his bouquets.

“It’s not my fault he’s got no filter,” Dean muttered under his breath. But as he expected, by the end of the day, she and Jo had managed to get the entire shop in on his and Crowley’s latest exchange.

But that wasn’t the worst of Dean’s troubles. He had his snot nosed brother coming in almost every damn month getting forget-me-not’s for his girlfriend Jess.

“Look, I’m starting to think you’re just getting these for you,” Dean said as he spotted his tall brother’s familiar mop of brown hair. The bouquet was already set up on the counter, ready and waiting for his arrival. But Sam’s eyes immediately drifted to Dean’s neck and arms, cataloguing the latest changes to Dean’s appearance.

“You got new tattoos?” Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes and grinned. “One you can see, two you can’t.” He smirked as Sam’s face flushed.

“Good grief, Dean,” Sam groaned. “Soon you won’t have any skin left!”

Dean shrugged and tossed the flowers into Sam’s waiting arms. “Just wait until I get my famous back piece done.”

“You’ve been saying that for months, Dean,” Sam said, sounding skeptical. “Let me guess, you haven’t found an artist you like enough yet?”

“It’s not my fault Lisa moved away to chase that dream of becoming the hottest tattooed yoga instructor in the northwest.”

Sam gave him his famous bitch face and Dean grinned weakly.

“Well,” Dean finished, “it’s not like there a lot of tattoo artists I trust enough to get that close. At least not in these parts.”

Sam frowned deeply. Dean could see his lips twitching with a coming response, something Dean knew he wasn’t going to like.

He rubbed at his old rose tattoo as Sam said, “Look, I know Alastair got you tied up in some nasty stuff, but I’m sure there are still some other artists in the area that’ll do good. It’s not like the next best artist is going to walk through the door at any given second, you know?”

Dean glared at him. Sam looked guilty, but offered no apology.

“How much do I owe you this month?”

It was a weak jab at a distraction. But Dean accepted it tiredly as he lowered his arm and leaned against the counter.

“On the house,” Dean grunted, but then thought better, “ _this time._ ”

It was enough to pull Sam’s lips up into a gentle smile. Dean smiled back.

“So what’s the famous back piece going to look like anyway?” Sam asked.

Dean winked and leaned back, “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Sam laughed skeptically. “I doubt I’ll wanna’ see it. But let me know when you get it done.”

Dean rolled his eyes and ushered Sam away from the counter. The bell over the door rang, and he was vaguely aware that Charlie and Jo were nowhere to be seen. Probably hiding in the back with the refrigerators, making out or something.

“Well, got on out of here,” Dean said. “I’m sure Jess is waiting on her monthly love letter.”

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, but he was smiling, so Dean flipped him the bird as Sam laughed and finally exited.

The other customer was busy looking at some of the displays, so Dean decided to go in search of his interns. Much to his disappointment, he found them chatting and cleaning up some fallen soil from their morning deliveries. Much less exciting than he’d hoped.

There was only so much love-sick eyes he could take before he decided to just lock them in the closet together. But no matter how funny he found the thought of locking a lesbian and a pansexual in a closet, he was pretty sure that would violate a few contract rules. So for now, all he could do was wait and hope. And drop as many suggestions and hints as possible until one of them finally woke up and realized the other girl was looking at them too.

When Dean came back out to the front, the customer from before was standing by the daffodil display. From one look, Dean could tell the man was seriously considering the bouquet. But the display case was locked, and Dean expected the man to ask for the key soon enough.

But instead, the man kept standing there, staring. Dean drummed his fingers on the counter. Two more customers came and left as the man  continued to stand and watch the very boring case in front of him.

Finally, Dean gave in to his curiousity. He came out from behind the counter and made his way over to the man.

“See something you like?” He said kindly, surprised when the man jumped and quickly shoved something into his jacket. Dean narrowed his eyes curiously, but then his eyes caught the stunning blue hiding beneath the man’s cap. He lost his breath a moment later when the man opened his mouth.

“Well,” the southern accent drawled, “I do now.”

Dean felt heat touch the tips of his ears, but he forced down the slight flutter in his chest and grinned at the man. Well, he was attractive. Dean decided he’d let the man get away with the compliment, and the roaming eyes that were clearly memorizing his visible tattoos. He’d let it go... for now.

“Were you interested in the daffodils?” Dean asked.

“Um,” the man suddenly flushed, and Dean was surprised to detect a touch of embarrassment in the man’s features. “I… Yeah, I’m interested. But I saw the lock there and figured they weren’t for sale.”

Dean shrugged and nodded. “Well, you’d only be half right,” he explained. “We don’t get a lot of orders for these things. So I just keep the one on display. You can pre-order a bouquet if you like, and I could get you some by tomorrow.”

“Why keep up a big display like this, then?” The man asked, waving to the large glass case that surrounded it.

Dean smiled softly and pointed at the portrait above the case. “They were my mom’s favorite. She started the business.”

The man’s lips parted in an ‘o,’ and the man let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s somethin,’” he murmured. “I can understand that.”

Dean nodded silently. Then, he rolled his shoulders and turned to face the man again. The man that was quickly wiggling deeper into Dean’s conscious for a reason Dean couldn’t quite explain.

“So, would you like to pre-order one, then?” Dean asked.

The man blushed again, and Dean narrowed his eyes.

“Well, see, uh,” the man reached into his coat and pulled out a sketch pad. “I was hopin’ to get a few flowers here. Nothin’ like bouquets, but just some things to help me get some new design ideas down.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked. That he could do, but one look at the sketch had realization dawning.

“You’re… an artist.”

The man grinned nervously. “Yep,” he replied. He extended a hand and introduced himself. “Name’s Benny Lafitte. I jus’ opened my own shop a few blocks down from here. Was hopin’ to get a lay of the land when I saw your flowers through the window. Couldn’t help myself after that.”

Dean laughed and nodded. He took Benny’s hand and shook it firmly. “Dean Winchester. I gotta’ say, we don’t have enough artists in this area.”

“So I noticed,” Benny chuckled. “Figured it’d be a good place to settle in and set up shop. Not enough people in this town have enough ink like you.”

Just like that, Dean’s mind snapped forward and his jaw dropped. “Wait, so you’re a tattoo artist?”

Benny looked surprised, but smiled and put his sketch pad away. “That’d be it, chief. And you got a nice setup yourself.”

He motioned to Dean’s arms and neck, and Dean beamed.

“Man, this ain’t even half of it.”

Dean couldn’t be sure, but he could’ve sworn Benny’s eyes darkened. Dean licked his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“But hey, maybe you could catch a peak sometime? I’ve been looking for somebody to help me with a back piece?”

“Y-Yeah?” Benny asked. Dean grinned slyly and nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Maybe I could stop by sometime next weekend and see what you got?”

Benny nodded hurriedly. “I’d like that. Maybe I could get a few things together. I suppose you already got what ya’ want figured out?”

Dean motioned to the glass case. “You’re looking at it.”

Benny’s eyes widened, then turned back to Dean’s.

“Well,” he replied, licked his lips as well. “I’ll look more into that for ya.’ Next weekend?”

“Next weekend.”

They shook hands once more, fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, and Benny left a few minutes later once he had a few finished touches to his sketch.

Dean immediately pulled out his phone and texted Sam.

“ _What was that you said about the next best artist walking through my door? Got one. And he is hot._ ”

The resulting exchange of messages were enough to have Dean grinning for the rest of the afternoon till closing.

Later that following weekend, Dean put one of his full time employees in charge as he stepped out and travelled the few blocks down to Benny’s shop.

He’d gotten anxious halfway through the week and scouted the place out. It was gorgeous from the outside, decked out in swirls of blues and greys, highlighted by a touch of gold on the trim of the sign that read, _Benny’s Parlor_.

He’d been too scared to go in early. But now that it was Saturday, Dean felt nothing hold him back as he stepped inside.

He had to admit, it was a classy joint. Something about it settled in his gut like home. It was the same feeling he used to get when he went to his mom’s shop, or whenever he switched the closed sign to open in the mornings.

It was a warm feeling. And it was all he felt as he closed the door and spotted Benny come out from the back.

“Hey chief,” Benny said with a grin. “Decide for an early start?”

Dean shrugged and smiled back nervously. “Well, I want to get going as soon as possible.”

Benny clicked his tongue, but nodded knowingly and grabbed a binder from the top of his counter.

“Well then, come see what I got for ya.’”

Dean did.

By the end of the day, he was in awe and blushing ear to ear from some of the beautiful, elaborate designs Benny had stored over the years. He’d even collected a large amount of flower pieces, and soon enough, Dean had scheduled his back piece.

He had to wait, unfortunately. As Dean wasn’t surprised, Benny was almost an instant hit in the community. And scheduling proved to be an interesting feat. Yet even then, Dean was sure he caught Benny pushing one of his appointments to another time in his calendar to make room. But Dean wisely said nothing.

Benny didn’t have to say anything either. But when Dean finally came in to get his piece done, he didn’t miss the excitement in Benny’s eyes as Dean peeled off his shirt and revealed nearly all the hidden tattoos he kept beneath his henley.

“Damn,” Benny whistled as he motioned for Dean to lie on his stomach. “Forget your shop. I think you’re the real beauty here.”

Dean blushed and hid his smile in the crook of his arm as he got settled.

The resulting piece was beautiful. It was full of bright yellow daffodils, tulips, and daisies, all bordered by swirls of blues and whites.

Dean couldn’t have loved it more. When Sam came in the following month for his usual order, Dean was all too happy to deliver the news that he finally got the piece done.

He ignored Sam’s cry of surprise when he spotted the hickey above the daffodil on Dean’s back shoulder.

Dean only grinned. He considered it a part of the masterpiece anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> me: deanbennylife.tumblr.com
> 
> i may or may not continue this. we'll see. in the meantime, i really hope you liked it! 
> 
> (florist!dean in flower tattoos is basically the best thing ever what even)


End file.
